


I'm Not America's Sweetheart (She Loves Me Anyway)

by swanqueenfic13



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Based on a song, Bullying, F/F, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Maggie centric, Maggie's Backstory, Post 2x08, Racism, Sanvers - Freeform, Song fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2016-12-06
Packaged: 2018-09-06 22:45:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8772394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swanqueenfic13/pseuds/swanqueenfic13
Summary: Based on the song America's Sweetheart. A fic about Maggie's background and how it led her to Alex.TW for bullying, homophobia, racism (all are minor but still in there)





	

You were ten when you first learned that this was not your America.

You’d always had a sense of “other” growing up as the only Latino family in Blue Springs, Nebraska. When the whole class was being rowdy, you would be singled out as the instigator and you’d take the brunt of the punishment. People stared whenever your family went out. You always knew on some level that you were different. Not bad, but different nonetheless. You were ten when this came to a head and someone called you a dirty Mexican. You tried to tell them that you showered every day and your family wasn’t even from Mexico and you were born in the same hospital they were, but it didn’t matter. Your skin was brown where theirs was white and you figured out that there was no way to make up for that. Not in their eyes.

 

You really embraced being different when you came out or at least, that’s what your parents said with a laugh. You told your mom first through tears one night after your brothers went out with their friends. She frowned at first but chuckled and said she wasn't surprised. When you told your dad, he grunted and went off to the bar. By the time he came back he just smirked, ruffling your hair and asking if he could still threaten your  _ suitors _ . After your brothers found out they started going to restaurants and asking they be seated with the cutest waitress, snickering because the host always assumed it was for the boys but really it was just to give you a chance to work on talking to girls. 

Your town was not as nice when they yanked you out of the closet. Natalie Wolfe had been your first real crush in high school, not that you told anyone. She was your best friend and the preacher’s daughter. When you kissed her in your bedroom one afternoon over algebra notes, she kissed you back. The next day everyone was whispering about you. After class, Natalie’s older brothers dragged you out to the back football field and beat you bloody along with half the baseball team. They chipped a small piece of your front tooth but your family couldn’t afford to get that fixed.

You’d just wanted to be normal, just wanted to fit in. But they stole that from you. Spit at you in the halls, yell at you to get out of town. You’d begged your parents to let you leave. You even offered to go live with your nana and papa in Florida but your parents wanted you to stay. To ‘tough it out’. They said they wanted you to grow a thick skin but you secretly thought your parents wanted to punish you for being gay. So you stayed until the day you crossed the stage.

By the time you left Blue Springs, you were a completely different person. You’d gotten tattoos on your hip, back and ankle. You practically lived in leather jackets and an old pair of combat boots. You had a higher alcohol tolerance than your older brothers because you spent so many evenings alone with a bottle just trying to forget. You were booed as you crossed the stage at graduation but it didn’t matter because you were done.

When you left Blue Springs, you burned almost all of your connections to the town, refusing to go back for family holidays.

 

When you first got to the National City Police Department, they stuck you on traffic duty. You stayed there for three whole months, writing parking tickets day in and day out until they finally let you have a beat patrol. Countless seasoned officers passed you around. It was common knowledge that no one wanted Sawyer as their partner. “She doesn’t listen to a word you say,” your coworkers complained. “She doesn’t know how to play by the rules,” your captain had written an official behavior report. You just laughed, went to the bar and had a good time.

A few months after you finally made detective they were asking for people to be in the official brochure for the police force. You put your name in thinking it would be good representation for kids to see an openly gay, active Latina female detective. You’d even thought of what you might wear. The photographer had just laughed, politely declining your offer and said they didn’t need any more “token models” and that you “weren’t the poster type”. You just rolled your eyes. When the brochure came out a few weeks later, you noticed the only woman in the entire thing was a blond-haired blue eyed desk sergeant. You couldn’t even muster the energy to be surprised.

 

One thing you liked about the city was the presence of an LGBT community. Finally you had somewhere you could be yourself and not worry so much. About a month after arriving in National City you found a gay bar. It quickly became your new favorite spot and you went through girls like you used to go through candy bars after Halloween. 

You were always clear about your intentions with these girls. You never gave a last name and didn’t offer your number. You made sure each one understood that this was not a relationship. It was sex, pure and simple. There was no room for feelings. And yet, no matter how clear you made it some girls seemed to get the wrong message. 

One girl had called you soulless, said you must have a heart made of ice. Another wondered aloud (loudly at the bar when you brushed her off) who had hurt you to make you like this. You just laughed and ordered another whiskey to take away the sting of their words. 

 

You knew that you were damaged goods. You were a big gay disaster being held together with tape and glue and you couldn’t get close to anyone lest you risk hurting them. And really, you were content with this life. Work was good, your sex life was great and if you were short a few friends well, who really cares?

But then someone tried to kill the president and that cute little FBI agent rolled into your life, quickly taking a starring role. You realized you were feeling things you hadn’t thought possible since Natalie broke your heart. Watching her crinkle her nose, square her shoulders and try to take over her crime scene, trip over her words when you complimented her… Damn, you were falling fast.

So, you did the only thing you knew how to do. You pushed her away by flaunting one of your flings in her face. Immediately you regretted it when you watched your face fall and you quickly tried to rectify your mistake by telling her that the girl ended it with you (which wasn’t a lie- she hadn’t taken it well, calling you a sociopath). Alex felt so guilty and your heart actually  _ hurt _ with how much she seemed to care for you. No one had cared this much since you first left for college and your brothers insisted on keeping in touch.

You flirted. A lot. And one day, you called her out on it, thinking it was just another little tease. But she backpedaled so quickly and you recognized that look in her eyes. That pure panic, the way her cheeks turned pink and you knew if you had Supergirl’s hearing you could hear her heart hammering. She was still closeted. So you gave her a few hints, just enough to get her thinking. And you left her alone.

When she came to you, you were careful not to mock. It was hard, you knew that and you felt so…  _ grateful _ that she came to you with this. (A small bitter part of you figured she was only telling you because it was a practice run for the people who really mattered in her life and you were sure to give her positive feedback as a seasoned lesbian). You let her talk, never interrupting except to prompt her to say the words. She couldn’t yet and you respected that, backing off and assuring her it was okay.

Needless to say you weren’t exactly  _ surprised _ when she kissed you after telling her sister. It was amazing. Better than Natalie. Better than any girl you’ve kissed since. But you pulled away because she was just a baby gay and she deserved someone shiny and new who could love her properly. And how were you supposed to give her all the love she deserved when you couldn’t even love yourself?

But you couldn’t explain that to her, couldn’t force the truth out. So you lied and you knew the moment her heart broke. In trying to spare her you only managed to hurt her. Really, this just proved your point that you were not good enough for Alex Danvers. You let her go and you took the silence for as long as you could before you went back to her.

Because you had really thought you were okay being alone but Alex showed you a world that you had never known before. One with friends and a life and  _ happiness _ . So you went back to her, practically begging her.  _ I can’t imagine my life without you in it _ , you told her and it was true. The corners of her lips quirked up in a tentative smile and you felt your heart skip a beat when she invited you to pool tomorrow.

Then you’re shot and she  _ dotes _ on you. You’ve been working a dangerous job and yes, you’d been shot before but never had it actually hit skin, only the vest. And that wasn’t just a bullet. That was a freaking  _ laser _ . No one could really blame you for spending a lot of time thinking about your own mortality and how you would have felt if you had died and Alex had never known how much she meant to you.

So you did exactly what you said you wouldn’t do. You went to Alex’s apartment with a peace offering of pizza and beer and gave her some big sappy speech about being happy and kissing the girls you wanted to kiss and then you kissed her. And it was even better this time because no one pulled away. It was soft and it wasn’t rushed. When Alex did pull back, you just smiled because she looked so  _ happy _ with her pajamas and her hair pinned back and her dopey little smile as she asked if you  _ liked _ her. So you just laughed and told her you did before kissing her again.

 

So maybe this wasn’t your America. You still weren’t welcome here fully, whether it was your darker skin or your sexuality, it didn’t matter. You weren’t a poster child for the American Dream, you weren’t America’s sweetheart. You were a non-white, non-straight girl from Blue Springs, Nebraska who wore too much leather, drank too much and had no real emotions. You had a chip in your front tooth and holes in your heart, tattoos all over your body and a mouth that got you into trouble far too often.

But it didn’t really matter because Alex Danvers loved you anyway. And you knew she would be enough.


End file.
